


Lifelines

by bisexualamy



Series: Trans!Steve Fics [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Male Character, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Trans Male Character, Trans Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualamy/pseuds/bisexualamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick little soulmate AU where any mark on your skin appears on your soulmate's skin, told from Bucky's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lifelines

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this tumblr post.](http://let-gavin-free.tumblr.com/post/117673589548/soulmate-au-where-when-you-write-something-on-your) It's been far too long since I wrote a Trans!Steve fic, though this is not in the same universe as all the other ones.

It starts at a different age for everyone.  For Bucky, the messages started at five, but the marks came sooner.  Whoever his soulmate was, they got bruises easily.  He’d often wake to bumps and cuts he didn’t ever remember having, never painful like the real thing, just soft impressions in his skin like the ghosts of someone else’s injuries.  Scraped knees, raw elbows, he used to worry that his soulmate wouldn’t stay in one piece long enough for him to find them, and when a new scrape or bruise appeared, he’d gently press on the mark, feeling no pain, and wonder if his soulmate felt and tingle and knew he was there.

Then, one evening, Bucky felt pressure on his left forearm, and when he looked down he saw letters appearing.  Small, messy child’s scrawl.  The letters were formed with hesitation, like whoever was on the other end was trying their best to get the letterforms absolutely right.   _ Hello,  _ the message read,  _ are you there? _

Bucky had been sitting on his bed, but the moment he saw the message he practically leapt out of his chair to grab a pen from the other room.   _ Yes,  _ he wrote underneath it.  He then paused, staring at his forearm.  What do you even say to your soulmate?  What kind of first impression is the most important to make?  What do you even say first?  Then, he saw a fading bruise a few inches from the message.  He circled the mark, drew an arrow pointing towards it, and wrote,  _ this one’s new.  Are you okay? _

_ Do you see every bruise I get? _

_ Yeah, and the scrapes too.  You get banged up a lot. _

His soulmate drew a small smile and wrote,  _ s’pose I’m not careful enough. _  Then, a pause before,  _ I’ll leave you a surprise in the morning, goodnight. _

When Bucky woke up, there was a design in pen running down his upper arm, faded marks that could only have been his soulmate’s doing.  It went from his shoulder to his elbow, winding around his bicep, lines intermingling along his body.  Even though there was no one in the room to see it, he blushed.

_ Thank you,  _ he wrote on his palm before changing for school.  It was winter and the school building was freezing, but Bucky swore he could feel the pen marks tingling hot under his shirt sleeve.  His private secret; a bond between him and his soulmate.

As the months went on, Bucky would periodically wake up to new designs or drawings on his body, always easily concealed by clothing, and always accompanied by a message from his soulmate.

_ Good morning, I hope your day is well. _

_ Whenever you’re sad I hope this can make you a little better. _

Next to one particularly intricate design was,  _ sorry, I think I got a bit carried away. _

Bucky would keep his eyes wide open for a person walking around with the same designs on their body as his, looking intently for his soulmate.  If they could meet young, they could start living their lives together.  They could get to know each other as they both grew.

He was too afraid to ask for his soulmate’s name.  In a way, it felt like cheating.  He wished whoever it was would leave him more clues on his arm than designs, like notes about where he had to go or todos.  Bucky knew he could leave these clues too, but he was too nervous about his soulmate even caring.  Sure, they were playing a cute game now, but this was child’s stuff.  When they met, it would be real.  Right now, his soulmate was an idea, not a person.  Meeting them might ruin the magic.

A few years later, Bucky woke up with a faded back eye.  When he pressed his fingers to it he felt no pain, and realized this was his soulmate’s doing.

_ What did you do to yourself this time? _ he asked on his forearm.

_ Some guy thought he knew what was best for me, _ came the reply a minute later, underneath Bucky’s words.   _ I had to set him straight. _

Bucky chuckled to himself.  By now he’d figured out that his soulmate couldn’t be that big, even for a ten year old’s standards.

_ What does your mother say? _ he asked.

_ She swears I’ll get myself killed one day and prays for my head to be knocked on straight. _

This time, when Bucky laughed, he felt as though he was sharing it across however many miles to where his soulmate was.

That whole day, though he knew it was a stretch, Bucky kept his eyes peeled for anyone with a similar black eye.  He felt that his soulmate would be the kind of person to wear that shiner proudly, instead of cowering at home or covering it up.  People approached him as he walked down the street asking if he was alright, neighbors and friends seeing nothing more than a small boy with a big black eye, but Bucky was distracted.  When he spent the whole day searching and still saw no one, he felt as though he was done waiting for fate to bring them together.

_ Do you live in Brooklyn? _ Bucky asked on his palm.  In his heart he knew the answer, that he wasn’t sure his soulmate could be from anywhere else, but he felt he had to ask.

_ Yes, _ came the reply, though the writing was hesitant.  Bucky felt his heart skip a beat.  Though he’d expected this answer, the concept that he could’ve passed his soulmate on the street before was almost too much.

_ I’m going to pick up milk for my mother at 4pm today,  _ he wrote.   _ Maybe I’ll see you. _  He wrote the address of the corner store below the message, dressed in one of his nicer shirts and pants, and walked to the market.  The whole time he felt himself distracted, staring intently from customer to customer, looking for someone about his age looking just as wary.  It took him twenty minutes to run an errand that should’ve taken five, and after he’d finally given up he paid for the milk and left the store.  Feeling as though he might cry, he took a pen out of his pocket and wrote,  _ you didn’t come,  _ on his forearm.

_ I was scared, _ came the reply,  _ that you wouldn’t want me when you saw me. _

_ How could you be so sure? _ Bucky asked.

There was a long pause between message, so long that Bucky was afraid he might never receive one again, when messy, uncertain letterforms appeared on his arm.

_ You’re a boy, aren’t you? _

_ Yes,  _ Bucky replied.  Another long pause before he saw the response.

_ My name is Steve. _

_ Like Stevie? _

_ Like Steven. _

Bucky felt his breath stop.  His soulmate was another boy?  Was that even allowed?

_ I thought that maybe if you knew I was a boy, you wouldn’t want me anymore,  _ came the rest of the message.

Bucky swallowed what he perceived to be confused tears, but a few slipped from his eyes.  They hit the still wet ink and caused it to run.  He quickly wiped them away, but it was too late: his messages had been smudged.

_ I’m sorry,  _ Steve wrote.

They didn’t speak for a week.  In that time no designs appeared on Bucky’s body, and no messages came in the middle of class.  The faded words  _ I’m sorry _ were still on his forearm, like Steve and he had washed all the other words away, but those words were too important to erase.  Finally, after a week, Bucky couldn’t take the silence.  He found a pen and circled the faded  _ I’m sorry _ and wrote,  _ me too. _

They didn’t bring up meeting again for years.  It was too risky, Bucky figured, to have two male soulmates together without the privacy of secret messages.  At first, Bucky was more scared of losing his only soulmate than scared of what it meant that his soulmate was a boy, and felt as though that was the only reason he stayed, but as he continued to get to know Steve, those worries began to subside.  They’d often stay up late into the night, Bucky keeping a small lamp and trying to read Steve’s terrible handwriting, as the notes decorated his body.

_ I want to grow up and join the army,  _ Steve wrote.   _ They don’t want me, but I’ll make them. _

_ You’ll fight anything that walks,  _ Bucky replied.   _ They’d love you. _

He then paused, looking at the words in two different, yet complementary handwritings all over his skin.

_ I love you,  _ Bucky wrote.

There was a pause on Steve’s end, where no note came, before he drew a small heart next to Bucky’s declaration and wrote,  _ I love you, too. _

One day, when Bucky was fifteen, he sat outside the school building rereading some of the notes from the night before.  Their messages had turned into long declarations of love, of how they’d escape a world that didn’t want them to be together and make it happen anyway.  They made plans of how they’d meet when they left school, when they went to join the army, after they finished their tours so they could finally have a life together.  Roommates forever to please their parents, swear they didn’t care a thing about soulmates, and secretly be in love.  He was sitting leaning against a tree when he thought of a joke in response to something Steve had said the night before.  He pulled out a pen (which as this point he always carried with him) and wrote it on palm.  It was then, almost in perfect time, that he heard a laugh coming from someone sitting on the other side of tree.

Bucky felt as though his heart would stop.  He crept around the trunk to see someone who looked like a girl staring at her palm, smiling.  Bucky couldn’t quite believe it, but still managed to get out “St- Steve?”  The girl looked up.

“Bucky?” she asked.  She stood up quickly.  “You probably want some explanation-”

“Why would you lie to me?” Bucky asked, trying to keep from yelling.  “Why would we make all those plans if all this time you were a-”

“-don’t say it,” Steve said.  “Please.  Please, you were the only one who thought of me the way I wanted people to.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Dammit, Bucky, look at me!” Steve said, gesturing to himself.  Cropped hair, men’s clothes, it had been hard to notice them before after he’d heard Steve’s voice.  He was tiny and sickly, but his voice was strong as he spoke.  “I may not have the same body as you but I feel the same way!  I’ve always been a man, I’ve always been Steve, but no one wanted me to be.  Everyone forced me to be this fake girl, except for you.  You called me Steve, you loved me even though I was a man.  You cared for me, at least I thought you did, regardless of how I was born.”

Steve paused, eyes pleading Bucky to understand.

“This is why I didn’t meet you at the store that first time.  I was too afraid that if you saw me you’d never view me as the man I’m meant to be.  This is who I am, this is who your  _ soulmate _ is, and I guess now’s the time for you to decide what really matters to you.”

Bucky wasn’t sure he could breathe.  Women turning into men?  It was an idea he wouldn’t have been able to fathom yesterday, but here in front of him stood Steve, his soulmate, and in some way, the whole thing made sense.  This was who Steve was, who fate willed him to be, just like fate willed the two of them together.

He grabbed Steve and kissed him like he’d dreamed of doing for years, feeling how warm and fragile he was underneath his embrace.  The kiss lasted barely a moment, but the intensity Bucky felt during it was something he would never be able to deny.  After a moment, when they broke apart, Bucky stared down at Steve, smiled, and said, “you’re what matters to me, Steve, and no matter what anyone says, you’ll always be Steve to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> 12/30/16: Thank you for the 100 kudos! I really appreciate how much you guys liked this.


End file.
